Invincible Summer
by hplover121
Summary: In the weeks following the war, the Weasleys all learn what happened to Hermione at Malfoy Manor. Then, they help her overcome it. This will be a 2 part story about Hermione overcoming her PTSD with the help of everyone's favorite family, The Weasleys.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! I just moved to university and I'm loving it here! This is the first thing I've written since I got here and it's kind of different from my usual writing style, but I hope you all like it! Review please? It'll make my day.**

**This story will most likely be a two-shot.**

**I don't own Harry Potter.**

"In the midst of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer." – Albert Camus

She knew they'd all find out eventually. It wasn't something that was easy to hide. Between the disgusting scar on her wrist, the slender one on her neck, and the nightmares that were sure to plague her at night and leave her screaming, they would all know that something had happened.

That something had gone wrong.

Bill and Fluer knew, of course. She hadn't told them, really, but how could they not? She had not been conscious when they had arrived at Shell Cottage that night, but she could imagine it clearly: Ron on their front steps, cradling her broken and bleeding body in his arms, desperately shouting for help. Harry, crying on the beach with a slaughtered, innocent house elf in his arms. Four other outlaws, emaciated and scared, with haunted eyes, her own screams surely ringing in their ears.

Yes, Bill and Fleur knew. But she'd have to tell them the details. And the rest of the Weasleys would be told. They would be told the entire story, she was sure. And this was just a small part of it.

She decided to wait awhile. She couldn't quite bring herself to talk about it yet. It made her feel weak and vulnerable, and she hated herself for it. Ron and Harry assured her that she had no reason to feel weak. They said she should wait until she was ready.

And so she wore long sleeves, and no one asked about the scar on her neck. And when the three of them told the story of the previous year to the Weasley's, they had stuttered their way through the events at Malfoy Manor. They ungracefully skipped over the torture that had taken place that night.

But, a few nights after Fred's funeral, after several numb days had passed since the battle, she woke up screaming.

_Screaming._

Her throat was raw and her body was heaving with sobs. The memories of pain she once felt reverberated through her. Bellatrix was over her, brandishing a gleaming dagger, a horrifying leer spread over her face. A dull, phantom pain remained as she opened her eyes to see Ginny sitting on her bed, reaching out to her, tears rolling down her cheeks. Arthur and Molly were in the doorway, Billy and Fleur and Charlie and Percy nearby.

Then, suddenly, Ron had burst into the room, Harry just behind him. They were pale. Ron had scooped Hermione's tiny, shaking form into his arms, murmuring into her ear. Harry ran his hands through his hair and roughly brushed unwanted tears from his own cheeks, before flying down the stairs and out into the fresh night air. The door slammed and echoed. Ginny had followed. She asked him what was wrong.

He hadn't answered.

Molly and Arthur watched their youngest son cradle this fragile young woman. They knew something had happened to her. Bill and Fleur looking on gravely, their eyes full of both understanding and confusion. Charlie looked stony. Percy looked skittish.

George had heard the commotion, but stayed in his room. Tears slid from his cheeks. This war had taken so much. So much more than just his beloved twin brother.

No one asked.

But then, a few nights later, the entire Burrow woke to Ron screaming.

Her name.

Over.

And over.

And over.

And it was awful and terrifying to all of them.

Their hearts nearly broke as they heard Hermione's small feet running up the stairs. Heard her open and close the attic door crying, "I'm here, Ron. I'm here. I'm here." And then Harry crying, too.

The inhabitants of the Burrow knew something had happened. Last summer, only Harry had night terrors. Hermione didn't stare off into space for lengthy periods of time. Ron certainly never desperately called Hermione's name in his sleep. They all wondered.

None of them asked.

The next morning, Hermione told Harry and Ron that she was ready for them to know. She was tired of hiding from it. But she couldn't do it alone.

She told Molly and Fleur and Ginny. She sat them down in the sitting room, and said she needed to tell them something.

Molly and Ginny looked encouraging. Fleur looked at her with solemn, knowing eyes.

Hermione cleared her throat, feeling a lump rising. "B-Bellatrix... she... she..." Hermione stopped, swallowing hard, at a loss for words.

Suddenly, she grabbed her sleeve and ripped it up, exposing _it._

"She... _hurt_ me." Hermione finished, not knowing what to say or how to explain it.

Molly's eyes filled with tears. Ginny began to cry. Fleur was pale. She had seen the scar before, but that didn't make it any less shocking.

All four women cried as Hermione recounted the event in vivid, _horrifying_ detail. She choked on her sobs as she spoke, telling them how the pain was unexplainable. She told them how the excruciating sensation ripped down her arms and legs, reverberated in places that she didn't even know could experience pain: the spaces between her fingers, the arches of her feet, her shoulder blades. Her eyes and teeth. Her very bones and blood.

Then Molly had gathered Hermione into her arms, whispering "Shhhhh, you're safe now, Love. You're safe. She's gone, she's gone." while tears tumbled down her cheeks and Hermione sobbed.

The three women stayed with Hermione until she felt all cried out, and all she wanted was sleep.

They tucked the fragile young woman into bed, worry in their eyes and hearts.

George cornered Harry in Ron's attic bedroom the following afternoon. It was a beautiful day, so the others were in the backyard having dinner. Harry went upstairs to change shirts after a pitcher of pumpkin juice had splashed onto him. George saw the opportunity and followed.

George never was the type to beat around the bush, so as soon as Harry turned to face him, George closed the door behind him and spoke:

"What happened to her, Harry?"  
>Harry immediately paled. His breathing shallowed. He swallowed hard.<p>

But he answered.

"It was Bellatrix, George." He began in a hoarse whisper. "At Malfoy Manor. She just ripped Hermione away from us... Ron tried to make Bellatrix take him, but she didn't. And then they threw Ron and I into the cellar and all we could hear was this awful, _terrible _screaming. It was the Cruciatus Curse... _So. Many. Times._"

George was pale. Harry was shaking, his voice rising with ever passing second.

"And then Bellatrix had a knife. She had this _bloody knife_that she used to carve Hermione's arm! And I'll give you three guesses what word she branded onto Hermione's arm! I'll give you three bloody guesses!"

Harry was shouting now. George felt sick.

"I know, Harry. I saw her arm. Her sleeve came up. It's... horrible." George said softly.

"And then we got out of the cellar, and we ended up in the drawing room." Harry barreled on, yelling. "And I'll NEVER forget how I felt staring at Bellatrix as she pressed a knife to Hermione's neck. She almost _died_, George! And she'll never completely recover from that curse! The scar will always be there AND IT'S MY FUALT!"

Harry punched the wall, leaving a boxy hole in the drywall. His knuckled bled. Tears trickled down his cheeks.

George didn't know what to say.

"It's not, Harry. And besides... without you... we'd all be dead, mate."

"She shouldn't have to go through that. She is so sad these days. She's just not cheerful or Hermione-ish anymore. I miss her. Ron misses her."

"I do too. But, hey, I bet between you and Ron, she'll be better in no time. You guys overcame so much together. You can overcome this too."

Harry roughly wiped his tears.

"Thanks, George."

Ron told Arthur, Bill, Charlie, and Percy.

They stood in the shed. Ron wasn't even sure how they had ended up there, and he didn't really care. He just wanted to get it over with.

"Hermione... She was tortured." Ron said gruffly. Cleared his throat.

"Bellatrix... She had a knife." Cleared his throat. Willed the lump is his throat to leave.

"The Cruci..." His voice caught in his throat, and he couldn't bring himself to go on.

Ron took a deep, shaky breath. His eyes stung.

"Son..." Arthur began, dropping a hand on Ron's shoulder. "How many times?"

"At least eight. That's what Luna said." Ron breathed, there was a pair of tears trickling down his cheeks. He glanced at his brothers. Charlie and Percy both looked shocked, angry even. Bill looked sympathetic.

"I just... I couldn't _save_ her." Ron finally choked out.

"But you did, Ron. She's here with us." Percy said, trying to encourage.

"Oh, God. No." Ron scoffed as more tears fell. "You didn't see her when we got to shell cottage. Bill did." Ron sunk into a chair, head in his hands. "I mean, yeah we saved her. But I didn't really save her. She'll always have those memories, the aftereffects of that bloody curse! She can't forget the pain, and I sure as hell won't _ever_ forget how it felt to almost lose her! And that girl that wakes up screaming and shaking, that's not Hermione! That's not how she should be living! Hermione is strong and brave and _wonderful_ and that-that-that _bitch_took those things from her! She's afraid and scared and she hates it. And I hate Bellatrix for doing this to her!" Ron finally finished, openly crying now.

Arthur put his hand on his son's shoulder again, taking a deep breath. "She'll be back, Ron. The Hermione we all know will be back in time. She's in there. And if anyone can find her and pull her out again, we all know it'll be you."

Ron loved his dad more than ever in that moment. He felt hope and courage and love.

He looked around to his brothers. He knew that all of them could help bring her back. Hermione needed to feel hope and courage and love. And if there was a family anywhere who could show her those things, it was his family.

"You're right, dad. We'll find her again."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone! I'm SO sorry that I haven't posted in so long, university is keeping me busy! I'm have to work crew for an opera, and I've been cast in a show (yay!), so between crew, rehearsal, and classes, I basically live at the theatre. Please be patient with me! I hope you all enjoy this. Please review**

**I don't own Harry Potter.**

As the days after the war turned to weeks, Hermione Granger didn't change much. She always expected that if, by some miracle, they should win the war, she would have been overjoyed and full of life after the victory.

But it wasn't so.

She wished with all of her heart that she could be happy, but she just_ wasn't_. She spent a lot of time just staring.

Out the window, at the pond. Watching the stars, or the clouds, or the birds in the sky.

At a wall, taking in it's sheer simplicity. All one color, all one material. Solid.

And sometimes she would find herself staring into the mirror, wondering who the bloody hell was looking back at her.

Harry brought her books, but she didn't feel like reading. And Mrs. Weasley made her favorite foods, but she didn't feel like eating. Ginny made jokes, but she didn't feel like laughing. Ron was so loving, but she didn't feel she deserved it.

The inhabitants of the Burrow were filled with worry for this young woman who had once been so brave, who was now so empty. With heavy hearts, they watched her go about her days. They tried to help her as best they could, and they hoped with all of their hearts that the girl they loved would return to them.

It was a Tuesday evening, three weeks after the end of the war, when Charlie approached Hermione as she leaned against the shed, staring into the orchard. He plopped down beside her, not knowing what to say, or even why he was there. He couldn't cure this poor girl, he knew. But he felt inclined to try. Maybe it was because he'd never seen Ron so worried. Maybe because he was a Weasley, and Weasleys just cared for people. He didn't really know.

So Charlie sat by Hermione, not saying a word, and watched the sunset over the orchard. After a long while in silence, he leaned over and put his arm around her shoulders. She tensed for a moment before leaning against him, but she did. He took this as a good sign.

Soon it was dark.

"That sunset, it was almost as beautiful as I remember your laugh to be, Hermione. I do hope I get to hear it again before I leave for Romania."

And with that, he rose to his feet and walked into the burrow. He didn't see the single tear slide from her eye, the first sign of emotion she'd shown in a week.

That night Ginny woke to see Hermione sitting up in bed.

"Hermione, what is it?"

Hermione didn't answer, just kept staring at her arm. After a while, she spoke.

"It looks different in the moonlight."

"Oh, Hermione." Ginny crossed from her bed to Hermione's, wrapping her arms around the shaking brunette. As Ginny began to softly rock Hermione back and forth, she heard muffled crying. She'd never been so happy to hear crying in her entire life. This was emotion beyond screaming night terrors. Maybe Hermione was coming back to them.

So Ginny just held Hermione, murmuring gentle words, until she was able to fall asleep in the arms of her friend.

The next morning, the Mrs. Weasley was surprised and delighted to see Hermione enter the kitchen. It was early and no one else was up. Hermione made a cup of tea and sat down at the table. Molly made Hermione some toast and eggs, and nearly cried tears of joy when the young woman ate the whole plate of food. Suddenly, the girl spoke.

"Why are you all so kind to me, Mrs. Weasley? When all I do is mope about and cause you extra trouble?"

"Hermione, we love you. You went through something horrible, and you need time. Time to cope and to heal. And that's why we're here, Love. Talk to us. Please, talk to us. Help us to help you, Dear." Molly squeezed the girl's hands, and felt her own eyes sting as a single tear rolled down Hermione's cheek.

"You have such an amazing Family, Mrs. Weasley. You are all so strong and wonderful and good. And I just... I just... I want you to know that I love you, all of you. Very, very much."

There was a steady stream of tears rolling down Hermione's cheeks at this point, and Molly hugged her, murmuring, "I know, Dear. Shhh. We love you so much, Hermione. You are so loved."

Later, Hermione agreed to go swimming with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. George told Molly he wanted to reopen the shop. Molly smiled, knowing they were all beginning to heal.

Within a few days, everyone was glad to see Hermione getting better. She wasn't completely back to normal, but she smiled more. And Charlie even heard her laugh once before he left for Romania. She still had night terrors that sent Ron and Harry crashing into her room, and she still had bad days. But there was progress.  
>Several days passed, and Harry observed Hermione along with the other inhabitants of the Burrow. She seemed to be getting better. She smiled much more often, she even laughed occasionally. One morning, he found her in the kitchen, making some tea. Everyone else was still asleep, aside from Mrs. Weasley, who was busy in the laundry room. Harry saw her standing at the sink and took in the sight of her. She looked slightly healthier, the bags under her eyes not as pronounced. She had just showered, and her wet hair fell over her shoulder in a braid.<p>

"Hermione, do you fancy some air? Let's go for a walk." He blurted. She looked up, surprised. Then she shrugged and followed him out the door. Harry turned down the path to the village, and Hermione followed.

"So, how's Ginny?" She asked.

"She's wonderful." Harry laughed. "She's great."

Hermione smiled and linked her arm through his. They walked in comfortable silence for a while before reaching the village. Without really knowing where he was headed, Harry walked to the bookstore. The same bookstore from which he'd been buying books and trying to get Hermione to read them. Upon entering, Hermione turned to Harry.

"You're trying to cure me, Harry. Trying to get me to read again?"

"Well... erm." Harry began. Hermione squeezed his hand.

"You know, I'd enjoy a novel, I think. A story, nothing to really learn, but something to think about... yes. A novel. Do you have any favorites?"  
>Harry blinked, overcome with excitement at this reaction.<p>

"Well, um. You know I'm not much of a reader...let's see... a novel..." Harry went to the Fiction section and began to look through the shelves.

The blonde teenage girl behind the counter looked over. "Can I help you?" She asked.

"Ah. Um, yes. My friend would like a novel. Something exciting..."

"Well, do you want a fantasy novel, or a historical fiction, or... hmm." The girl joined Harry as he reached for a book with an apple on the cover.

"Oh, no, not that. Twilight is ghastly... How about The Hunger Games? Oh, I do love those books. I heard they're making them into films in America. I can't wait to see them. It's a quite exciting story."

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Sure." She smiled. The girl selected three books from the shelf and rang them up at the register. Harry and Hermione left shortly after, Hermione clutching the bag. She linked her arm with Harry's and put her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you." She murmured. And Harry smiled.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

And the two best friends walked back to the Burrow, where Hermione curled up on the couch and cracked open a book for the first time since the war ended, eagerly beginning to read.

When the inhabitants of the Burrow came down as they woke, they smiled at the familiar sight of the young woman furiously turning pages. It was the closest image to the old Hermione that they had seen yet.

A week passed, and it seemed as though Hermione was back, and everyone was overjoyed. There was no screaming in the night. Hermione smiled. She laughed. She read. She scolded Ron when he swore. She seemed to be perfectly fine. And everyone was overjoyed.

George was closing up shop one evening when Hermione came in. She wore a simple blue sundress with long sleeves that covered her scar. He smiled at her appearance. She looked healthy. Her skin was sunkissed and her eyes looked so much more alive than she had a few days ago.

"Hello, George." She smiled.

"Hey, Granger. Looking for Ronniekins?" She rolled her eyes at the nickname and nodded.

"He just left, I sent him out early, just because I'm the coolest boss ever. Also, he was starting to talk about how great you are, and all of the sweetness of it made me feel sick. So I gave him the boot."

"Oh, ha ha." Hermione smiled. Just then, the last customers left the store, a woman and her son. George locked the door behind them.

"So, what are your plans for the evening, Hermione?" He asked. She didn't answer.

"Hermione?" He turned back to find her gripping the front counter so hard that her knuckles had turned white. Her eyes had seemed to dilate, and her breathing was shallow.

"Oh, no." Geroge rushed to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Hermione? Hermione it's okay... It's okay.. talk to me."

"That woman.. she looked... like..." Hermione gasped for breath and flushed pale. George realized that the woman had had wild dark hair. From the back, at a glace.. she would have looked like..

"Bellatrix." George growled. Hermione whimpered and her eyes glazed over.

"I didn't take anything." She mumbled.

"Oh, shit. Hermione, sit down, easy now." George lowered the young woman to the ground with him, and he wrapped his arms around her as she began to shake violently. After all of this time, he realized that she too had lost something in this war. He had lost his brother, his other half. This young woman had lost part of herself, too. A part that she could never completely get back. Her innocence.

"Talk to me. Talk through it, Hermione."

"Oh, God, George, she was so terrifying and I feel like she's on top of me again. She's pinning me down, and she's carving my arm!" George pulled Hermione against him in a hug.

"Shhh... it's okay.. I've got you." George looked frantically around, wishing Ron was here. He always knew how to calm her down.

"It was so scary. I was going to die, George. I was going to die. Part of me wanted to die. I _wanted_ to die! Oh, God, the pain... I can almost feel it!" Hermione started to hyperventilate.  
>"Shhh..." George rocked her back and forth, his heart aching for her. He wondered why she was letting <em>him<em> in. And then he remembered what he had just thought. She knew he'd lost part of himself. She had as well. And he knew if she talked about it, she would recover sooner.

"Talk through it, Hermione. She's not here. You know she's not."

"She's not... She's dead. But I feel like I felt that night! Oh... Oh no.." Hermione let out a sob and clutched Geroge's shirt, crying loudly.

"She's gone. She'll never hurt you again."

"She's gone!" Hermione sobbed. And she repeated it over and over and over until she was no longer crying, just merely whispering. George just held her, patting her back until she sat up and wiped her eyes.

"I'm so sorry. Carrying on like a buffoon when you've lost so much more than me." She muttered.

"No. Stop it. You lost a part of yourself too, Hermione. We both did. Just in different ways. You're so strong. You're amazing. You're so good for my brother. Although what you see in that tosser I'll never know."

Hermione laughed and wiped her cheeks.

"Thank you, George. So much."

Fleur, unlike most of the other Weasley's, had known of the torture before the trio told the true story. Sure, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn't said what had happened that night, but she knew. She could remember that night plain as day. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes to sleep, the memories came at her in sharp detail, as though they were burned onto the insides of her eyelids.

She always remembered that she saw Ron's face first. Cut and bruised and _terrified_. And then her eyes focused on his arms. His arms that held a fragile young woman, her head hanging back, neck limp. Her eyes closed. Pale skin. Bruises. Scarlet blood, everywhere.

After that, it was a blur, pulling out potions and bandages and searching the corners of her mind for a charm, spell, enchantment, _anything_ that could help this poor girl. And she remembered telling the boys the leave the room so she could wash Hermione, and then she found the scar.

And she had cried.

Over the unconscious body of a poor girl who had been fighting battles too large for anyone to fight, who now had a horrible word branded onto her for life. This girl, who Fleur had last seen at her wedding, looking beautiful and healthy, was now close to death. And her young brother in law, who was clearly so in love with this girl, was sitting outside, waiting to see if she'd _live._

Fleur remembered all too well how it felt to see the one you loved ripped to shreds, how it felt to have their blood stain your hands. And so she had cried for Ron, too.

And so now, when Fleur saw Hermione beginning to grieve and heal, she felt inclined to help. She noticed Hermione sitting in the orchard one afternoon, watching Harry and Ron and Ginny play Quidditch. On a really good day, Hermione might have joined them, on bad day, she would be inside in bed. Fleur decided that this day was somewhere in the middle, and a good time to talk to her. Hermione shifted slightly and glanced at Fleur as she sat, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a small smile that Fleur knew was a "Hello." Just as Fleur sat, the a quaffle fell to the earth near them. Ron soon swooped in from the sky, hopped from his broom, and retrieved it. Fleur watched as he smiled at Hermione, and bent to leave a lingering kiss on the top of her head. Hermione's eyes fluttered closed at his touch, and she offered him a small smile as he mounted his broom and flew into the sky.

"'E Loves you, you know. Very much." Fleur said as he flew away.

Hermione's eyes glistened, and her voice sounded groggy as she said. "I know."

"And you love 'im, too."

"So much that it hurts." Hermione answered, swiping a single tear from her cheek.  
>"Zen let 'im 'elp you. Talk to Ron. Let 'im in. Let someone in, <em>Cheri<em>. We all love you."

"You saw me that night. You saw. I just... I... can't... talk about it. He's so worried about me, and I'm just awful. He deserves someone happy... someone whole. Someone brave, like him. I'm _weak._" She said, spitting out the last word. "There is something bloody wrong with me. And he deserves someone perfect."

"First of all, zat is ridiculous. You are zee most wonderful girl I 'ave ever met. And you are zee bravest. And...you know, 'e said zee same things when he stayed with us. You know, when 'e left. But you showed him that 'e was forgiven. 'E can show you zat everything will be okay. 'E can 'elp you feel okay again. Let 'im in. Let me in. We love you. So very much, 'Ermione." And with that, Fleur wrapped the young woman into her arms, and they watched the Quidditch game.

Fleur heard Hermione whisper a soft "Thank you." She smiled. She knew they'd be okay. Hermione would be okay, soon.

That night, Hermione snuck up to Ron's attic bedroom. As usual, she passed Harry on the stairs sneaking down to Ginny's. They smiled shyly at each other, still slightly embarrassed although it was a nightly occurence.

Upon entering Ron's room, Hermione kept across the floor and slid under the covers.

"Hey." he murmured, wrapping his arm around her. His large hand closed over her wrist, his thumb gently brushing her scar. "You're beautiful." he mumbled. In that moment she knew. She knew that this love, this overwhelming love that she felt radiating off of him, would heal her.

"Ron." She whispered. "I need you, now."

"I'm here, Hermione."

"No, I mean I _need you_... now." She said, sitting up and looking him in the eyes. She pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor.

Ron's eyes widened, but didn't leave hers.

"Are you sure?" He whispered.

"Ron, I need this. I need you. I need to know that you're here, and I'm here. And we're alive and everything will be okay. I need you to heal me. Please."

Ron leaned forward, kissing her, and rolling her beneath him. Soon, all remaining clothes had disappeared, and Ron gently hooked his hand in the crook of Hermione's knee, pulling it up slightly, making a cradle for his own body.

"You're sure, Hermione?" He asked, his eyes full of questions.

"Positive, Ronald." She smiled up at him, and lifted her hand to stoked his cheek. He turned his head, kissing her scar.

"I love you, Hermione."

"I love you too, Ron."

And as they joined for the first time, and began to move as one, Hermione felt a pain that grew into the sweetest sensation she'd ever felt. She left the love tingling in her fingers and toes and a warmth throughout her body that she had never felt before. And the warmth grew and grew until she wondered if she had ever really lived before this moment.

A while later, as Hermione lay next to Ron, listening to his deep breathing, she knew. She knew that she'd never really completely recover from what she's gone through.

But she also knew that she was safe. That she was loved. That she was strong. That she could overcome.

That life was going on, and she wasn't about to let it leave her behind.

Hermione Granger closed her eyes, and with a small smile on her face, drifted into a peaceful sleep.

_Fin._


End file.
